Life Chances
by Noc007
Summary: A realistic look at one girl's rude awakening into the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. What would you do if you woke up to find out you were no longer yourself but someone else? Someone whose personality and beliefs were clearly different from your own? What will you do? Most importantly, what will you do with the knowledge of what is to come? AU-ish, Realistic OC Self-Insert SI
1. 0: Epigraph

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_If you don't know where you are going, any road will take you there._

- Lewis Carroll__

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	2. in esse

**_{re-written/edited 6/5/14}_**

**Full Summary:**

It's a fan's wildest dream to experience the wizarding world of Harry Potter on their own, right? So what if you were given the chance, what would you do? Better yet, what would you do if _you _woke up to find out _you _were no longer yourself but someone else? Someone whose personality and beliefs were clearly the opposite from your own? This is the story of one girl's rude awakening into such a situation. Having the power of knowledge of the future on her side, will she be able to stand on the sidelines and watch the story develop before her own eyes? Or will she take advantage and help the winning side? Not such a hard choice, is it? But remember, having the knowledge of the future can be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands...

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**NOTE!**

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This story will be based on realistic situations. What would REALLY happen if a girl were to appear in the Harry Potter world. What do you think will REALLY happen to someone who knows all about the "future"? Think the OC will have a kick-ass adventure alongside the characters without any real harm befalling on her? Think about it. Canon characters will remain canon, but with a touch of realism added to their characters and so on. This story will contain mature themes; dark themes that I am sure will not be everyone's cup of tea. And by dark themes, I mean 'the dark actions a human being can inflict on others.' I tend to be descriptive of such things. Why? Because reality is incredibly harsh, for a lack of a better word.

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**I: in esse**

_{in existence}_

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_Calculus…. exam.… today…  
_

I stirred a little, inhaling deeply.

_Term paper for Psych due Wednesday…  
_

I stirred again as the blanket that had been covering me slipped off my body.

_Ten pages… find subject…  
_

Great, what better way to rouse myself up from the little sleep I had than by going through a mental checklist – then again, that was also one of the ways I would lull myself to sleep. Funny way of doing things, but it was better than counting sheep. Lovely, I thought as I let out a deep sigh into my pillow. Just because my brain was ready to tackle the day didn't mean I was ready to follow its lead. No, not after I studied until one in the morning for my exam. Besides, math class wouldn't start until noon, so I had the whole morning to waste away in dreamland.

_Did I turn on the alarm?_

As I turned my body to my left side to get a view of my clock on the nightstand, I noticed the sheer white curtains that billowed in front of my bedroom window. Wind. As if to confirm the presence of the element, I felt the coldness caress my exposed legs. I would not had slept with my window open but being that it was California and August, the weather was not exactly cold.

_Hot days always led to warm nights… so why is there a cold wind?_

While my brain was alert enough to think of the importance of the day, for some strange reason the rest of my senses were not exactly up to par.

Slowly I sat up, perplexed at the sudden drop of temperature in my room which the rest of my body soon registered with a slight shiver up my spine. As I went to sleep in shorts and a tank, it was logical that the cold temperature would get to me if I wasn't covered up. I leaned over my bed, ready to pick up the blanket from the floor, only to stop halfway. As half of my body hung over the edge of the bed, I stared down at what appeared to be some kind of textured wooden floor. Long gone was the light gray carpet that covered my bedroom floor, one I'd been accustomed to seeing for the last four years of my life in this apartment.

As if in slow motion, my sight trailed from the floor up to my hand that clutched the blanket; instead of seeing a familiar light blue fabric, I held a pink one.

I dropped it.

_Okayyy…_

I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

There was a logical explanation for this; I somehow must had been moved to a different bedroom and building all together. I was not a sleepwalker – that I knew of – so it was unlikely that I just got up and left. I was a heavy sleeper, so it would explain why I didn't feel anything, no movements, no nothing. Nada.

_Sure, makes sense, right?  
_

I could not believe it.

Still over the edge of the bed, I turned my head to the spot where I had propped my light blue Jansport backpack last night. As it contained my important schoolwork, everyone in this apartment knew that it should not be moved without me knowing of it.

Yet there was no backpack.

The foot of the bed frame was not metal either.

"Wood," I uttered under my breath.

Forgetting the position I was in, I pushed against the edge of the bed, only to feel myself tumble onto the cold, hard floor. Thankfully, the height difference wasn't too great, but I ended up smacking the side of my face against the floor.

Ouch.

I allowed a couple of minutes to pass by before I pushed myself off the ground and into a sitting position. The bed – a canopy – obstructed my view of the room, but I still had more than a glimpse of the decorative style of the bedroom. Had I been in a much better position, as in knowing where I was, I would have taken in and admired the décor, which I could only describe as Victorian.

It was as if I had gone to bed in the modern world and woken up to a past era; long gone were any signs of my electronics and wall decorations – in their place were the intricate pieces of furniture that very much went with the Victorian theme. There was a tri-fold vanity; I even had a partial view of a chandelier that did not look out of place. Whoever was the interior designer of this bedroom had captured the look of the bygone era.

Another gust of wind brushed against my back, and I turned in time to catch the hem of the white sheer curtain before it blew onto my face. It was then that I noticed the window was wide open, just as I had left it last night, except for one thing: this window had no screen. As I looked past it, I saw a gray sky as a rush of wind brush against my face. While I was fond of the cold weather, this was a bit too cold for my taste. As I moved onto my knees, I took hold of the windowpane and started to close it, but I paused halfway. Just like the moment that I saw the bedroom floor, what I saw struck me as incredibly odd. No, not odd but…

"What the hell?" I muttered as I pushed the window open, ignoring the cold air that rushed in.

Instead of seeing the buildings and telephone poles I was familiar with, I saw trees. Lots. Of. Trees. I could also see that I was on the second floor of the house. As I held the windowsill for support, I leaned my head out to see what appeared to be a garden below and a small treaded path that led away from the house and towards the forest.

_Huh… there's a forest in the backyard…  
_

I slowly pushed myself onto my feet, closed the window and turned to face the bedroom.

_Bedroom. House. Forest.  
_

This was not my home; hell, this wasn't even the city I lived in, and by the looks of it, there was nothing of mine in this room. Nothing to declare that I, Maria Lopez, had occupied this room. No shoes, no sweater, there was nothing of mine. I mean, if had I been moved, wouldn't there be some kind of evidence? Even so, I would have been told; I wasn't exactly small enough to be carried around like I'd been when I was a child, nor were my parents strong enough to do it now. Now if it were my friends…

I blew into my hands to keep them warm and it was here that I noticed them. There was something different, but I couldn't put a finger on it – no pun intended. I wiggled my fingers and looked over my hands, and while they looked perfectly normal, there was something slightly off about them.

_Here I am wondering what is wrong with my hands when there's something much more important to tend to such as figuring why I'm here…  
_

I was out of it; it would explain why – while being aware of it – I wasn't reacting the way I should be. Oh sure, I noticed the obvious, but I was placated and unperturbed that I was so nonchalant about it. This, in itself, was just wrong. Why was I not reacting the way I should be? I mean, I knew I should have been worried and should have gone out that door in search of someone to explain what happened. But I wasn't. I just stood here. Reminded me actually of the time I accidentally took more than the recommended dosage of Vicodin.

_Drugged…__.  
_

I covered my mouth, cutting off my gasp.

It explained everything. Well, the feelings, at least.

My lack of response to the strange surrounding and just the overall emotions.

I was _so _cool…

Heck, I even thought my hands looked strange. _Something someone would have said had they been under the influence.  
_

"Definitely drugged," I uttered to myself.

I had never taken any of the illegal or recreational drugs out there, and I had never gotten drunk in my life – it just wasn't part of who I was. Which only left that som-

There was a soft knock on the door.

_Soft_ knock, not a hard knock; it was as if someone knew I was already awake but didn't want to appear rude.

_Had someone come in earlier and checked on me?  
_

I said nothing but cautiously walked halfway towards the door.

_What was I being cautious for?  
_

There was another set of soft knocks; again, I said nothing and stayed in place. The person didn't sound hurried but they were certainly being respectful. Who co-

"Missus, it's eight thirty-seven; please hurry or Missus be late for the train," a squeaky voice came from the other side of the door.

_Missus? What's with the squeaky, cartoonish voice?_ Someone was playing a joke on me; they purposely butchered up their sentence to sound pathetically ridiculous.

Another set of soft knocks on the door; I scoffed under my breath.

I got it; I was being pranked, but by whom? I'd no idea,but there was no way someone sane would go through all the trouble to bring me out here. Definitely no trouble considering I'd been drugged. What's worse was the fact that my parents must have been on the joke because clearly, as light sleepers as they were, they would have known.

…_and if this was meant to be a surprise…  
_

I couldn't help but wince; I liked surprises, but not to this extent.

I walked up to the door quietly; if I wanted to catch the person in action, I would have to be quiet about it. Wait until they knocked and th-

_Knock…_

I swung the door open, expecting to see someone standing there with his or her fist still in the air but instead I saw a wall. "What th-"

"Mixi would like for Missus to be ready so Missus can have her breakfast."

Not bothering with right or left, I looked down, and what I saw made me stumble back in shock.

Standing no higher than my knees was a thing wearing what appeared to be some kind of white cloth; its spindly arms hung limply at its side, its oversized eyes set in a large head looked up to me…_curiously_? Frankly, the sight was not pretty.

"What the hell are you?"

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but the thing wriggled its stringy fingers nervously and looked up to me.

"Why, Mixi is a house-elf, Missus."

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**Note:**  
Yup - I'm picking up on this story again :)


	3. Lusus naturae

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_**Lusus naturae **_

_{a freak of nature}_

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"_Why, Mixi is a house-elf, misses."_

House-elf? Where had I hea-_house-elf? _As in a _Harry Potter _house-elf?

"Oh," I uttered as I looked down upon it – Mixi, was it? – only to see it fidgeting its twig-like fingers. Everything about it looked just as it had been described: bat-like ears, the bulbous eyes and just the nervous demeanor it held spelled out that magical, fictional creature.

_Magical…  
_

I was dreaming.

Of course, it made perfect sense.

The strange room, the house and the fact that I had no idea where I was fit perfectly in a dream. Had this been real life, I would had been troubled. Yet, here I was – standing in front of one of the magical creatures of the Wizarding World; I dare say the creature looked just as alive and not the digitalized version seen in the movies. Though, I had to admit that seeing it in flesh and blood, there was nothing pretty looking about the creature; it reminded me both of a naked mole rat and a hairless human. I found it curious that my brain would conjured up a creature and a name when the only known house-elf that easily came to mind was Dobby.

"Why you and not Dobby?" I asked aloud. Since I was still dreaming, my unconscious brain would try to find an answer. Yet, it wouldn't because I was still in control – I was aware of myself in this dream. _  
_

"D-dobby, misses?" It asked. I could not tell whether it was male or female, though I could only assumed – going by its name – it was female but I could be wrong.

No, it was definitely a female.

"Yes – why am I dreaming about some random, made-up house-elf and not that funny creature, Dobby?"

"Dreaming? Misses isn't dreaming. Oh no, she's wide awake talking to Mixi," the house-elf gestured before it looked to her right at something out of my view. "Why would misses want to speak to Dobby?"

So this was my brain's way of trying to collect information from me – the conscious part of my brain and by doing so, it would regurgitate whatever I tell it back to me.

Ooh, I was being _too_ rational...

Was I lucid dreaming? It _would _explain why I was being rational in this dream, so aware of my thinking process. If this was the case, it also meant I could control it...

I stepped forward closing the gap between us before I sat down on my haunches, enough so as to be on its eye-level. "Awake? No, I'm not awake." I stated as I stretched out my hand towards it only to see the house-elf flinch away. Ha, nervous creature. "Because if I were – you don't exist. In fact, you came from a creative mind – not mine, of course, I'm afraid I'm not _that _creative."

The house-elf looked at me in the most curious manner. Considering I was dreaming and in control – to an extent – I decided to ask the house-elf, also known as my _brain,_ things about the wizarding world. I was a fan and one one who knew more than the basics – really, I was a nerd. There were certain aspects about the world that even Rowling did not clear up. So, I decided to play on that. Trick my brain, if you will.

"Tell me then, how do house-elves come to existence? How long do you guys live for? Can you tell me, Mi–"

"Well, well, look who took more than she should."

So concentrated I was on the house-elf, I failed to notice the person who stood behind it. Standing at a distance from the creature was a pretty brunette no older than sixteen or seventeen; her wavy shoulder length hair framed her face in a way that it flaunted her features. Even the style of her clothes were different from what I was accustomed to seeing; I couldn't help but admire her well-put together appearance. Yet, despite this, there was an air of superiority about her appearance – stuck-up came to mind. Plus, there was something about her that looked familiar...

Surely my brain picked out a person from the "outside" world.

The girl walked forward not taking mind of the house-elf in front of her that, had it not been for it stepping away, she would had surely kicked it. "Was it..." she looked around before turning back to me with a knowing smile, "one of our lovely _plants_?"

That smile... I have seen it before...

It then hit me, she looked awfully a lot like that girl from that TV-show Gossip Girl, Blair Something? From the little that I knew, isn't she some kind of rich snob? It would explain why this dream girl had no regards to the house-elf and had that kind of "air" about her that screamed stuck-up.

Eh, my brain was trying was trying to hard in this dream.

I stood up to stretch up my legs, relieving them from the position I was previously in. "Why are _you _here?" I asked in a casual manner.

The smile she previously wore disappeared by a degree, "what do you think?"

It was here that I became aware of her accent, "oh, this is _good; _you're speaking in a British accent." She gave me a blank stare, "well, you _are _in _my _dream, so it's na-"

"Dream?" She raised an eyebrow, "I see you're still under."

I said nothing.

"Bloody hell, are you out of your mind?" She hissed under her breath as she closed the door behind, not bothering to check whether the house-elf was standing there. It wasn't. "Not only is your father downstairs but we'll be leaving for Hogwarts in a couple of hours and here you are wasted. How long has it been?"

"Hogwarts?" There it was again – first it was the house-elf and now it's the wizarding school.

"Where do you think we'll be spending our sixth years at?" The girl asked pointedly.

Sixth? If so, that made her sixteen if not fifteen...

"I'm nineteen," I mused, "considering we're in a dream, I suppose it is poss-"

"Snap out of it, _Delmira_!" she demanded, looking all-too irritated. "First time you got caught, you had a free pass due to Xavior. Now there's no excuse for you this time." She stopped and took a breath, her expression softening a bit. "I'm only looking out for you as you would do for me."

"Woah, my name's Maria and not Delmir_ah_," I voiced, raising my hand to quiet her retort. This situation was getting too charged up for my taste, not to mention the sick feeling I was getting at the pit of my stomach. The kind of feeling you only get when something was not quit _right_. "I have to wake up now," I said more to myself than to her as I looked down at the floor before I turned toward the bed. "This is only a dream; I'll wake up any min-"

"_Maria?_ What a common name!" She scoffed from behind me but I had a feeling it was not the name itself that bothered her.

"Time to wake up," I tapped my fingers against one another; how exactly do I go about doing that?

This can't be possible...

I suddenly felt a strong grip on my upper arm twirling me around with such force, had it not been for her taking hold of my shoulders, I would have tumbled onto her. With her face so close to mine, I could see every detail about her face. Very, very light freckles... practically unnoticeable.

"You must have taken a bad patch, Delmira, but you're definitely _not _dreaming," she said above a whisper.

"My name is not Del-" I whispered only to be cut off by her sudden jerk as I was led across the room.

For a couple of minutes, this dream was becoming all too frightening. _A Nightmare_. I was no longer in control, but that soon changed when I saw her. _Them_. It was the ultimate proof that I was, in fact, dreaming. I actually let out a sigh of relief because of this.

How?

It's only in a dream that your appearance might change from whom you really are, and I _definitely _did not looked like the girl who stood beside the snob. Though, I had to admit I liked this dream version of myself – an attractive version of myself, which did not made much sense because that wouldn't be me... I think.

In dreamland, anything goes."Well, I look better if that's what you're trying to say," I started as I stared into the mirror. "I'm a bit too skinny though; I'm surprised I even have these large boobs." I said thoughtfully as I poked my right breast. I turned to the girl/snob, "So you bro-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

It came out of nowhere but that was the least of my worries when I felt the sharp stinging sensation of her slap spread across my cheek. Instinctively my hand went up to it, my fingers gingerly touching upon the skin. "How…" I stared, bewildered.

"Do dreams hurt, Delmira?" She asked softly.

No, they shouldn't.

Never in a dream had I actually _felt _any kind of pain…

I took a step away from her, "W-who are you?"

This resulted an eye roll from her. "Why, I'm your favorite and _only _cousin Pansy Parkinson." She started; her words intentionally slow as if she were speaking to a small child. "And you are Delmira Castellvi. Has that refreshed your mind, dear?"

I took another step away from her but could not utter a response, much less a retort.

This couldn't be real; a fictional world along with its characters was just that, fictional.

Pansy Parkinson… Hogwarts… House-elf… all from the Harry Potter books.

This was a nightmare, a horrible waking nightmare…

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**Note**

For those who might be curious, the title of each chapter is in _Latin _and underneath is their English translation :)

ps: Feel free to check out my new Harry Potter story "**Abnormal**"! _**  
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